The Prince
by Negaduck
Summary: Only Scooter can save the Muppet Theater from imminent demolition.


**The Prince**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

"Entrepreneurs are simply those who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and are able to turn both to their advantage."

- _The Prince_ by Niccolo Machiavelli

* * *

It was late in the evening when a teenage boy coasted his bicycle to a stop in front of the gate to a mansion. One foot on the ground, he pressed a button at the side. A buzzer sounded, and the gate slid open. He pedaled in.

The door creaked open. It was a big, heavy, solid wood door, and had been with the house so long that it has earned the right to creak. The boy walked in, a duffel bag over one shoulder, and shut the door behind himself. "I'm back," he said to nobody in particular.

"'Bout time," said a girl as she walked into the hall. She was wearing her usual evening wear: cutoffs, a tee shirt, and a bandana to hold back her unruly red hair.

"Hi, sis. What's up?"

"Unc was wondering where you were."

He shrugged. She shrugged back. They both knew that their uncle knew exactly where he had been: at the Muppet Theater. He asked, "Good meet today?"

"Yeah! Whupped 'em at the track," she said with a grin.

"Attagirl," he said, and punched her shoulder lightly. He was always careful not to hit her hard. Not because he was worried he'd hurt her, but because she'd hit back harder.

"And, check this out," she said, reaching into her back pocket. She took out a card and held it up proudly. It was a driver's license.

"Hey, finally," he said. "Fourth time's a charm, huh?"

"Ha ha," she said, pocketing the license again. "At least I'm not still puttering around on a dinky bike."

He shrugged, feeling no need to answer. He'd get a license soon enough; he just wasn't in a huge rush like Skeeter was. "Got some homework to do. Later."

"I thought you did that stuff at the theater."

"Not lately. It's too busy." He used to do his homework there, or take naps, or just hang around, knowing that, no matter what he did, they couldn't fire him because his uncle owned the theater. But before long he started getting interested in the show, and began pitching in for real. It was kinda neat, being an actual member of the team.

"I'm gonna go for a spin. Wanna come? I'll give you a turn."

"Thanks, maybe next time," he said, tilting his duffel bag at her. "Gotta get on this."

She watched him walk down the hall, then put her fists on her hips, shook her head, and said "Nerd."

Scooter walked past the study, which smelled of cigar smoke. A raspy voice called, "Scooter."

He turned back, duffel bag still on his shoulder, and entered the study. "Hi, Uncle J.P."

"Where've you been? It's late."

"At the theater. There was a lot of cleanup after tonight's show."

J.P. put his cigar down in an ashtray. "You don't have to mop up after them."

Scooter shrugged, knowing that his casual attitude annoyed his uncle. "It's not that bad."

"You're wasting your time there. That show won't last much longer."

"I don't know. They've got some really good guest stars booked."

"Yeah, but they'll be out a theater. I'm gonna turn it into a parking lot."

Startled, Scooter asked, "Why?"

"That place is a money sink. I can make more charging hourly parking than I make off the rent the Muppets pay. Don't worry, I'll get you another job."

Scooter thought about it for a minute. Then he said, "You're right. That theater is a mess."

"That's right."

"It's probably completely worthless. Even a liability."

"Yep."

"In fact, I bet the best thing you could do with it is use it as a tax write-off."

J.P. picked up his cigar again. "What?"

Scooter explained, "If you unload it by giving it to some charity, you get a tax break, and it's no longer your problem if something goes wrong on the property. The savings on insurance alone is worth it."

"What charity would take that rotting hulk?" J.P. demanded.

Scooter paused, looking upward as if deep in thought. Then he said offhandedly, "The Muppets."

"The Muppets? Since when are they a charity?"

"Have you seen their ledger? They're definitely a nonprofit organization."

"That's for sure."

"And, let's face it, who'd _buy_ that theater? Let the Muppets have the headaches."

"I'll think about it," J.P. told Scooter.

"Thanks!" Scooter shouldered his duffel bag again and left.

J.P. took several puffs on his cigar. Then he began to chuckle under his breath. Since he had 'inherited' the twins from his sister he had been trying to shape one as his protégé, having no children of his own. At first he had thought it would be Skeeter; she had the backbone for it. But, no, nothing could interest her in the world of business, even though it was more competitive than any of her sports could ever be. Scooter, on the other hand, was happy just to goof around and get underfoot. He had gotten Scooter a job at the theater just to get him out of the house over the summer. He'd never expected the slacker to become attached to that motley crew, and he was startled to find that Scooter had the nerve to try to manipulate him into giving them the theater.

The boy was developing a Machiavellian streak. J.P. approved heartily. Fine, he'd postpone knocking the theater down as long as Scooter was working there. From everything he'd seen, the theater would fall in on its own before long, if the show didn't go out of business first. Either way, Scooter would see close-up how not to run a business. Until then he could have his hobby.

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All characters are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


End file.
